


Remedial Somnology

by anemicaxolotl



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: (it's canon but like just to be safe), Episode: s05e04 Cooperative Polygraphy, Insomnia, M/M, Missing Scene, Non-Consensual Drug Use, is it angst? hurt/comfort? a sick fic?, is it coherent? not at all, uhh man idk what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemicaxolotl/pseuds/anemicaxolotl
Summary: "I'm a bad person for tracking your location, but you altered my brain chemistry? I was up for three days that week. I invented an entire language, you flitzbarping gitzgorg!"After Annie slips something in everyone's coffee, Abed doesn't sleep for three days.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 32
Kudos: 176





	Remedial Somnology

**Author's Note:**

> Based off Annie's confession in Cooperative Polygraphy. No, this isn't the Anthropology final where Shirley gives birth, it's the other one in the first semester (?). Yes, of course I forget what a college is schedule is like so let's just pretend finals and classes are happening at the same time.

_I'm a bad person for tracking your location, but you altered my brain chemistry? I was up for three days that week. I invented an entire language, you flitzbarping gitzgorg!_

_–_ Abed Nadir, “Cooperative Polgygraphy”

**day 1 – 12:00 AM**

Abed doesn’t drink coffee. If he did, he would add so much cream and sugar that it would make more sense to just drink hot chocolate. Beyond hating the bitter taste, he can’t stand how jittery it makes him – all his tics becoming more pronounced, his already-racing mind zooming at illogical speeds.

But Annie is insistent. “The final is in _less than 10 hours!”_ she hisses, slamming a tray of cups onto the study table. “And you’re all dozing off! We need to focus!”

Besides, she had splurged for them, walking the extra distance to the good coffee stand on campus and getting everyone’s orders precisely correct. Shirley politely declines, citing orders from her obstetrician, but everyone else accepts. Annie smiles sweetly as she slides Abed a grande mocha with _extra cream, extra sugar! :)_ scrawled on the side of the cup.

So he clinks his cup against Troy’s in a silent cheers and takes a sip, pleasantly surprised to find it less bitter than he had anticipated. He drinks it quickly, like Annie recommends, and they get to work.

**day 1 – 4:02 AM**

Troy and Abed trudge back to the dorms together. Pierce had tapped out before midnight, and there’s no way Troy is going to walk back to the mansion by himself at this hour, so Abed invites him to crash on the bottom bunk.

His motivations are partially selfish – he can feel the blood thrumming in his veins and his brain is making a noise like television static. He doesn’t want to be alone until the caffeine leaves his system and he can calm down enough to sleep.

Troy borrows PJs, folds his jeans neatly so he can wear them to class in six hours, and collapses onto the bottom bunk.

“Annie must’ve put espresso shots in our coffee,” he groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “I’m tired, but also, I’m not? You know what I mean?”

Abed is no stranger to insomnia, and normally, he’d agree with Troy – that feeling you get when your body is ready to shut down but your brain can’t seem to get on the same page. But this is different. Tonight, every inch of him is restless, antsy. He can’t get his limbs to settle down, no matter how hard he tries to shake off the excess energy.

“Troy, do you want the top bunk tonight?” he asks hoarsely. The thought of staring at the ceiling all night, unable to get up and pace around without waking Troy as he descends the bunk ladder, makes him anxious.

In an instant, Troy is rolling out of bed and climbing to the top bunk. “No problem, buddy,” he says, curling up under Abed’s blankets. “By the way, we should both set our alarms, just to be safe. That would suck if we overslept and missed the exam after all that work we just did.”

Abed nods silently and sets his alarm, says goodnight to Troy, slides under the covers.

**day 1 – 8:30 AM**

When Troy’s alarm goes off, Abed is already up and pacing the room.

“Up already?” Troy asks groggily when he sees his friend.

“Never slept,” Abed admits.

Troy sits up quickly. “Is that…that’s not good, is it?”

Abed shakes his head and heads to his dresser to grab some clothes. “Probably not. But I can take a nap after class. I’m going to go take a shower.”

Troy eyes Abed carefully, but just nods and lets him go.

**day 1 – 9:23 AM**

“You look like shit,” Jeff says as a greeting when Troy and Abed get to class.

“Jeffrey!”

“What? He does.”

Abed can’t argue. “I couldn’t sleep,” he mutters, sinking into his desk.

“Oh my God, I know, right?” Britta pushes a pair of sunglasses to the top of her head. “I think I slept for, like, an hour. How many turbo shots did you slip us, Annie?”

Annie just giggles. “You guys are crazy,” she says with a wave of her hand. She slips her notebook into her backpack and folds her hands over her desk demurely, waiting for the exam to begin.

**day 1 – 11:18 PM**

Abed can’t sleep again. He’s been watching _Seinfeld_ reruns since he got back from dinner with the study group, and he wants to lie down and try to get some sleep. But no matter what he does, his brain won’t slow down. His heart has been racing all day and his hands are just a little trembly. He sloshes milk onto his shirt every time he tries to lead a spoonful of Lucky Charms from bowl to mouth.

Every few episodes, he leans his head back against the couch, closes his eyes. Just in case. Every time, his eyelids start to twitch, and then his leg begins to shake, jostling up and down of its own accord.

Then he stands and gets more Lucky Charms.

**day 2 – 3:16 AM**

He finally grabs his laptop so he can edit some of the video clips he’s been meaning to get around to. Documentary-style stuff, spare odds and ends he’s never had a purpose for. He figures he can compile it all into a montage of the study group that they can play at an emotional turning point in their collective story, maybe graduation or the inevitable in-group wedding (his money is on Jeff and Britta).

His hands are still trembling over the mousepad, but each image parades across his view in hyper-focus: Jeff, rolling his eyes fondly behind Britta’s back. Shirley, clasping her hands over her mouth as she laughs at something Troy does off screen. Annie, pumping a fist triumphantly in the air after receiving an A on an exam. Britta, carefully fixing a curl over her shoulder and laughing self-consciously when she notices the camera. Troy, giving Abed a thumbs-up. Troy, his soft gaze following the movements of a toddler tottering through the frame. Troy, throwing his head back to laugh as Pierce breaks the soft-serve machine and fakes a heart attack.

It doesn't take long for Abed to abandon all pretense of editing and just start flipping through endless video clips until his vision blurs: Troy reaching up to brush snow out of Abed’s hair, Troy smiling at something just off camera, Troy, Troy, Troy.

**day 2 – 8:58 AM**

Abed is the first one in the study room. Annie eyes him carefully as she takes her seat.

“Are you feeling okay, Abed?” she asks gently.

“You don’t look so good,” Shirley adds, frowning nervously. “You don’t think you’re coming down with something, do you?”

“Just can’t sleep,” Abed mutters.

He can feel Troy’s eyes on him as they all pull out their textbooks. A few moments later, the corner of Troy’s notebook slides into his line of vision with a small note scrawled in the corner of the page: _U OK?_

Abed glances at him, offers him a weak thumbs-up, tries to smile.

When they all leave the study room to head to class, he feels a gentle touch on the inside of his wrist, holding him back from the group.

“Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?” Troy asks softly. He gives Abed a look that he knows means _concerned_ and _sincere._ “Annie can take notes for us, you know. You don’t have to stay here if you’re sick.”

“I’m really not sick,” Abed insists. “I told you, I just can’t sleep.”

Troy looks at him for a long time before shrugging and pulling his hand away, tucking it into his pocket as they head down the hall together. Abed absently brushes his fingers over the spot where Troy’s had been.

**day 2 – 11:59 PM**

He’s still awake. He’s been rotating bunks every half hour or so, just to see if it helps. It never does. He tosses back and forth like a ship on a choppy sea. His blankets are getting tangled around his legs and his left sock keeps slipping off his foot.

The bottom bunk is firmer than the top, but the top bunk is warmer. Abed rotates back and forth and never settles on a winner.

**day 3 – 2:40 AM**

Troy texts him.

_I rly hope this doesn’t wake u up but did u fall asleep yet???_

Abed hesitates before answering back.

_No._

His phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

 **Troy:** _damn that sucks :/_

 **Troy:** _is there anything i can do???_

Something twists in Abed’s chest to think of Troy in his room at Pierce’s mansion, lying on his side, his phone screen illuminating the anxious look on his face, the dip in his eyebrows and the way he bites his lip. Abed wants to say _yes,_ there’s so much Troy can do. He can do any of the things he normally does when Abed is feeling unsettled: run his hands through Abed’s hair, squeeze his shoulders, link their fingers together so Abed knows he’s not alone.

But it’s not fair to make him worry, so rather than lie, Abed chooses not to answer.

**day 3 – 2:45 AM**

The couch wins over either bunk, because Abed can see the TV from there.

 _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy, the extended edition, runs about eleven hours and twenty three minutes, and Abed is wondering how much he can get through before class starts. Or maybe he can skip class and just watch the whole series, because sleep still feels elusive at this point and he doubts he’ll be able to focus on a lecture. He can’t stop bouncing his leg up and down as he flips the TV on and turns the volume down as low as it can go.

Tolkien spent about twenty years developing the first four Elven languages that would eventually make it into _The Lord of the Rings_ lore, but he probably had to sleep, not to mention there was that whole First World War business going on at the time. Abed once invented a fake language in less than an hour to mess with Troy, although to be fair that was mostly a series of chaotic swirls and symbols that didn’t really make sense. Troy wasn’t paying that much attention to him at the time; meticulous detail wasn’t as crucial yet.

Now, to develop a speakable language, Abed figures it’s best to stick with an existing alphabet. He’s got enough to contend with between Arabic and Polish; the Roman alphabet will do just fine this time around.

He wants it to sound futuristic, like something aliens would speak if they landed on Earth and were attempting to communicate. Insults would likely come in handy, so Abed gets to work on those first, and then sets out creating a list of the next most essential words and phrases he’ll need to design: _hello, human, man, smile, friend, safe, brown eyes, love, home._

**day 3 – 10:00 AM**

Jeff stares at him as he enters the study room. “For the love of God, Abed, you need help.”

Britta swats at his arm and turns to smile gently at Abed. “What Jeff _means_ is that you look…like you’re not sleeping very well. And maybe that’s something a doctor could help with.”

Abed knows his eyes are red, the bags under them dark and pronounced, his hair sticking up from running his hand through it in agitation. “It’s not that I’m not sleeping well. I’m not sleeping at all,” he explains. He taps his pencil against the edge of the table, hesitating a moment to make sure he’s speaking English and not whatever language he’d invented that morning. “And I don’t know how a doctor is going to help me short of giving me sleeping pills, which I don’t want. You guys know I don’t mess with things that alter my brain chemistry. Drugs are a no-go for me.”

“Not all drugs are bad, you know!” Annie insists, shifting in her seat. “Medicine is supposed to help you, Abed.”

“Okay, speaking of help, can I get some help on my astronomy final?” Troy asks before anyone can respond to Annie. “I know I’m a Sagittarius but that is…not showing up on any of the questions and I’m starting to think I may have studied for the wrong exam.”

Jeff rolls his eyes and gestures for Troy’s textbook, and he and Britta lean over the pages together as Pierce turns to ask Shirley a question and Annie returns to her own work. Abed shoots what he hopes is a grateful glance at Troy. Based on the smile he gets in return, Abed thinks his message has been received.

**day 3 – 7:50 PM**

“Dude, you should sleep over tonight,” Troy begs as they walk across the quad together after dinner. “I saw this documentary once about this dude who stopped sleeping – he was like a DJ or something and kept taking drugs to stay up late – and he started _hearing colors._ Which actually sounds pretty cool, but also like…really scary, because I don’t know what colors sound like but I feel like blue would sound like sad music? Does that make sense?”

Abed really wants to respond, but his brain is making a sound like a high-pitched industrial fan, and all he can do is hum quietly and hope it’s enough. Troy’s eyebrows inch together.

“I feel like I shouldn’t leave you alone,” he says, putting a hand on Abed’s shoulder.

As much as he wants to lean into the touch, Abed is _antsy,_ and he finds himself shrugging away from Troy without really meaning to. “Thanks, but I’d rather not spend any extra time with Pierce than necessary.”

He tries to ignore the fact that Troy looks a little hurt as he takes a step back. “Okay. Text me if you need anything, alright?”

Abed nods; they do their handshake and then part ways.

**day 3 – 11:23 PM**

Abed’s next door neighbor bangs on the wall separating their rooms. _“Whatever you’re doing, man, knock it off!”_ he shouts.

That’s probably fair. Abed’s been banging his head against the wall for a few minutes now, not really enough to cause damage, just enough to cause a dull ache that makes him hopeful. If he gets a concussion, it might knock him out and that might finally give him some peace.

He shakes his head when he realizes how crazy that sounds. He knows he didn’t exactly do himself any favors with his stop-motion episode this year, but he’s absolutely certain he’s not crazy this time. He’d love to be able to get some sleep; it’s not him keeping himself awake. There’s something wrong with him – he was drugged, or he’s sick, or maybe dying, but this definitely isn’t psychosomatic. It’s physical and he feels it in every inch of his skin, all through his veins, aching in his very bones.

He regrets not taking Troy up on his offer, because Troy has stayed over at his dorm dozens of times by now and it’s always fun, always leaves Abed feeling warm and content and safe when he drifts off to sleep at night. That’s just the Troy effect, or maybe an effect of being hopelessly enamored with Troy. You get caught up in his glow and everything feels a little better just for being near him.

Abed makes a decision then, and before he can overthink it, he rushes out the door.

**day 3 – 11:48 PM**

He could probably spend hours checking each window at the Hawthorne mansion, except that one of the second-floor rooms on the far corner of the house has its light on, and through its window, Abed can see a purple Riverside banner. He breathes a sigh of relief as he makes his way across the lawn, scooping up a few stones along the way.

He doesn’t know how he finds the strength to wind his arm up and toss one of the rocks, but somehow he makes contact with the window. He throws another one, waits a moment, and throws a third; then, mercifully, the window sash flies open.

“Abed!?” Troy whisper-shouts, although there’s no way Pierce would be able to hear him across the mansion even if he were yelling. “What are you doing here?”

Abed shakes his head, words failing him. Troy must see the way he grips at his hair in agitation, because he quickly calls down, “Never mind, Abed, it’s okay. Do you want to come up? I can unlock the front door, or – WHOA.”

Troy scrambles to open the window wider as Abed, moving on instinct, grabs on to the trellis leaning against the wall next to Troy’s window and begins to climb. The only part of Abed’s brain still capable of focusing has latched on to the idea of _Troy, need, now,_ the way it always does when he’s panicking and he knows only one thing will calm him down. Troy reaches for his hands and yanks him through the window, holding on to him to keep them both from tumbling to the floor.

“Buddy, what’s going on with you? Are you okay?” Troy asks softly, his hands still gently gasping Abed’s arms, and it’s enough to make Abed finally break.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, and then he keeps repeating it. “I can’t sleep, Troy. I can’t sleep.”

Troy grips his arms as he collapses forward, his head coming to rest on Troy’s shoulder. “I can’t sleep,” he whispers, and soon he can’t tell what language he’s saying it in, Arabic or Polish or English or the new language of his own design.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, over and over again, as Troy holds him in strong arms, keeping him standing even when everything in him is screaming for the floor. “I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep.”

**day 3 – 11:49 PM**

Troy wants to take him to a doctor.

“There's no way this is still from the coffee, dude,” he insists, helping Abed over to his bed. “Something seriously weird is going on.”

“I’m not going to a doctor,” Abed forces out. He turns desperately to Troy. “I just want to sleep and I don’t think anything they do is going to help me.”

“Can…can I do anything to help?” Troy asks sadly, watching Abed twist his hands anxiously into the bedsheets.

“I don’t know if you can,” Abed whispers.

“Okay, well…here.” Troy grabs a pair of pajamas from his dresser and hands them over. “They might be a little short on you,” he says apologetically. “But we’ll figure it out.”

Abed changes mechanically while Troy gets to work turning his TV on with the volume low, shutting the lights off, grabbing an extra blanket from his closet, fluffing his pillows up, and settling into bed with his back against the headboard. “Okay,” he says when Abed is dressed. He pulls back the covers and gestures to the space in front of him. “Sit here and lean back against me.”

Abed eyes him uncertainly, and Troy pats the bed more insistently. “I’m serious. You say you haven’t been able to sleep, but that’s ’cause you keep _trying_ to sleep. Have you tried to just, like…relax?”

He raises his eyebrows invitingly and gestures yet again to the spot in front of him. Abed’s thoughts are split, swirling like opposing currents, unable to break through the fog and come to a logical decision. On one hand, it’s no different from the endless ways he and Troy have comforted each other in the past, like when Abed’s gone catatonic or Troy’s freaking out after a scary movie.

On the other hand, Abed’s never been in Troy’s bedroom before – much less his _bed_ – and now he’s sleep-deprived, and probably not thinking straight, and he really, really doesn’t want to make things uncomfortable between them.

But now Troy is fidgeting on the bed, tugging on one of the blankets and saying quietly, “Is this too weird for you?”

“No,” Abed says quickly, stumbling toward the bed. He settles in between Troy's legs, leaning back against Troy's chest, and together they adjust the blankets over them. Troy squeezes his shoulders, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down his arms until Abed begins to relax. In the dim room, under the weight of the blankets with the warmth of his best friend behind him, he feels less jittery than he has in days. He can’t say whether it’s just his body finally giving up after three straight days of consciousness, but the peace settling over his thoughts is all Troy, no doubt about it.

One of Troy’s arms loops around Abed’s waist, while the other comes up to stroke through Abed’s hair just how he likes it. He thinks it should all probably make him feel even more alert, with every nerve ending sparking to life at the contact. But now he just feels calm, and incredibly safe, and more certain than ever that there is no one in the world who loves anybody as much as he loves Troy.

“Feeling tired yet?” Troy’s voice is low near Abed’s ear.

Abed brushes his fingers against Troy’s arm. “Theoretically yes,” he answers softly.

“Theoretically?”

“Theoretically.” Abed closes his eyes and says, even more quietly, “In reality I’m thinking.”

Troy’s breath tickles Abed’s neck when he asks, “About what?”

Abed shifts in Troy’s arms a little. “I’m thinking about how I can only really say this now, so I can use the excuse of sleep deprivation-induced delirium if you say no,” he murmurs into Troy’s chest. “But. Considering the data and the subtext of the season, I feel like it's okay to suggest that it might tire me out even more if we were to, you know, engage in some kind of rigorous physical activity. Like making out for a bit. Just a thought.”

He hears Troy groan as his arms tighten around Abed’s waist. “I am going to kill you for making me say no to this,” he grumbles. “But...crap. _No_ , Abed. No way. Not tonight.”

Abed stiffens and tries to pull away, and Troy chuckles in his ear. “No, hey, come back. Look, you just said it yourself – you’re sleep-deprived and delirious. I don’t want to do anything tonight you’re going to feel weird about tomorrow. Okay?”

Abed tilts his head back so he can gauge Troy’s expression. “Is that the only reason you’re saying no?”

Brushing the hair out of Abed’s eyes, Troy sighs out through his nose. “Yeah,” he admits. “That’s honestly the only reason I can think of to say no to you. You have no idea how badly I want to say yes. Just...after you've slept, alright?”

“Cool,” Abed yawns. “Cool cool cool. I’ll ask you again tomorrow and if you say no I’m revoking our Friendship of the Year title on principle.”

“Deal,” Troy whispers, his lips brushing the crown of Abed’s head. “Hey, that was a yawn. Do you think you might be able to sleep soon?”

Abed closes his eyes experimentally, and finds it surprisingly easy to keep them closed and hold his body still. “Maybe,” he murmurs. “But, Troy…”

“Shh.” Troy rotates them so they’re lying on their sides, still holding Abed close to his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

**day 3 – 11:59 PM**

Abed finally, _finally_ falls asleep.

**day 4 – 9:10 AM**

Troy’s phone is buzzing insistently on his bedside table when he wakes up. He realizes he’s late to meet with the study group, and then he realizes Abed is finally sleeping, and also _Abed is in his arms,_ and suddenly the study group is the last thing on his mind.

Unfortunately, Annie has gone from texting him to calling him. Very carefully, so that he doesn’t disturb Abed, Troy answers his phone and holds it to his ear.

“Hey Annie,” he whispers. “I’m not going to make it to campus today. Abed came over last night and he’s finally sleeping, so…”

“Oh!” Annie sounds both pleasantly surprised and intensely curious. “So…oh?”

Troy huffs out a laugh. “Not like that,” he whispers. “I mean…I don’t know, maybe? Eventually? That’s probably a talk we’re going to have to have today.”

He can practically hear Annie’s grin through the phone. “Oh, Troy! Okay, don’t worry about coming to campus today. I’ll send you all my notes and study guides later.” 

“Thanks, Annie. And don’t worry about Abed. I promise I’ll take good care of him.”

“I know you will, Troy. You always do.”

Troy can’t help the giddy smile that spreads over his face as he places his phone back on the table and wraps his arms around Abed’s waist. He buries his face into Abed’s soft hair, closing his eyes and settling back in to sleep.

From his position, he can’t see the soft smile turning up the corner of Abed’s lips as he feels Troy pull him close once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Admittedly this is incoherent but in my defense I also hadn't slept in three days when I started writing this so what could you possibly expect.


End file.
